Trust Exercise
by Niente Zero
Summary: Ray K. focussed. Who's going to catch you when you fall? Who can you trust, and who trusts you?


**Disclaimer: Don't own/not making money/satisfying my impractically large hat fetish.**

**If you enjoy the story I'd love to hear from you. If you have constructive criticism I'd love to hear from you. If you took one look at the disclaimer, decided you can't be doing with hat-fetishists, and clicked the back button, I guess I don't need to hear from you.**

**Trust Exercise**

It was a cool Chicago night, and soft rain was falling down on Ray Kowalski, currently masquerading as one Raymond Vecchio, Detective First Grade. It was the kind of rain that gently tickled the back of his neck, making him long to reach back and have a good scratch. That would have been a very bad idea, however, as both of his hands were currently occupied in gripping a drain-pipe high on the side of a building.

Dangling more than two stories above the street, Ray was aware that the pipe was in the middle of the classic maneuver whereby it slowly detached from the building to which it belonged, swinging outward and leaving him even more tenuously attached to anything solid. He swallowed and looked down. Below was a blur. His thick-rimmed glasses had already tumbled off and fallen into the indistinct darkness of the Chicago night below. There was enough light from a streetlight to see a fuzzy-edged red-clad figure standing beneath him. That fuzzy-edged red blur had a lot to answer for as to how Ray found himself a hair's breadth from death or injury for not the first time. Ray chided himself. "One day, Stanley Raymond Kowalski, you're gonna learn to say 'No, Fraser, I don't want to climb that building to go after some piece of scum.'"

"Ray! Jump. I'll catch you." Benton Fraser yelled from where he was standing at the foot of the building.

Ray squinted down through the misty darkness. Could his partner possibly be serious? Well, nothing like a rhetorical question in a crisis.

"Are you SERIOUS?" Ray yelled down. That was a good start, but while he had the high ground, he felt like yelling some more. "Anyway, it's your fault I'm in this mess. How many times do I gotta tell you we don't have to go chasing the bad guys over roofs? We'd have picked him up eventually. I swear, you want to do everything the hard way."

"I don't think this is the time to discuss this." Fraser yelled back. "That pipe is going to come down soon. I'd rather you were no longer trying to hold onto it when it does."

Ray's hands slipped, and he scrabbled again, his boot-clad feet desperately fighting for grip on the wall. He looked like an oversized koala, and picturing the whole thing from an outside perspective he considered it probably looked pretty hilarious to anyone not actively trying to defy the laws of physics.

"Come on, Ray." Fraser shouted up. "You have to jump. Trust me."

Ah. Trust.

Two days earlier:

Ray, Fraser, and other unfortunates from the 27th district were stuck in an old school building that smelled of paste and stale pee with a gaggle of other Chicago police officers. The whole assembled gathering were being held hostage by the nefarious forces of mandatory team building and sensitivity training.

Ray sat at a small desk listening to a woman named Shannon talk about -well, actually, he wasn't listening so much as rolling spit balls from the notepad in front of him and restraining himself from flicking them at Fraser, but he was sure she was talking about SOMETHING because her lips kept moving. Ray was full of jittery energy fueled by a monstrous cup of coffee sweetened with candy, and it took a serious effort to keep from bouncing in his seat or tapping his feet with impatience. He tuned in for long enough to hear Shannon's kindergarten teacher voice intone sweetly "Now, we'll break into groups by district for this first exercise, which is about trusting one another."

The districts broke up into separate classrooms, with the desks and chairs pushed away from the center of the rooms leaving a clear space. Ray found himself standing around with five of his closest colleagues and, oh joy, Shannon was leading their group.

"Now, you all know each other, but I'm at a disadvantage." Shannon said as she closed the door to the classroom. "Why don't we go around and introduce ourselves. As you know, my name is Shannon. I've been working in corporate training for twelve years, and it's a real pleasure to get the chance to pilot this program with the police department!" She looked like she was about to start clapping or dancing with happiness. Ray couldn't help rolling his eyes. Just what the public needed. Four officers, one practically-an-officer, and, well actually, he guessed crime fighting could probably spare their civilian aide just fine, all off playing silly games instead of enforcing the law. And that was just from their district.

Lieutenant Welsh cleared his throat. "I'm Lieutenant Harding Welsh. And with all due respect, ma'am, I hope that today is going to be a productive use of police time."

Detectives Dewey and Huey introduced themselves next, very much in tandem, filling in each others' sentences as they went.

Francesca Vecchio stepped forward. "Hi," she said. "I'm Francesca, Francesca Vecchio. I'm a civilian aide at the station, and let me tell you, these guys wouldn't know what to do without us ladies." She winked at Shannon.

Ray looked around. Fraser was politely waiting, so he figured it was his turn. He was not especially comfortable introducing himself as Ray Vecchio. Besides, he looked not in the least bit like Francesca, which always made things fun.

"Uh, yeah. I'm Ray, Ray Vecchio." he said. "Frannie's brother, if you want to know."

Shannon smiled. "Great! I can really tell that you two have a special bond."

Ray blinked. Special bond. The girl who ran around in skin tight, cropped shirts, who he had to pretend was his sister, who incidentally regularly drove him completely around the bend with her inane malapropisms. Special. Sure. That was one way to put it.

"And last but not least, in the red uniform, we have?" Shannon turned to Fraser.

"Constable Benton Fraser, Ma'am," Fraser said. "I'm a liaison from the Canadian consulate, assigned to work with Detective Vecchio. I first came to Chicago in pursuit of my father's killers-"

Shannon frowned sympathetically. Her voice softened. "Gee," she said. "It's tough to lose a parent, at any age. I've worked with a few victims of violent crimes before, and I know it can be hard to overcome the emotions triggered. I'm so glad you're able to join us today. Perhaps you'll be able to share some of those feelings."

Ray found himself having a sudden and inexplicable coughing fit to cover up his combined disdain and amusement at her overplayed empathy.

"Yes, well." Fraser said, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "Indeed, it's been- well, I don't suppose it's really relevant."

Welsh interrupted, saving the Mountie from trying to find a polite way to tell the facilitator to mind her own damn business.

"Constable Fraser is here today because he works so closely with the department that my superiors felt it would be useful to include him." Plus, he didn't add, anything to help the real Vecchio's cover, even if that meant keeping the Mountie and the new Ray Vecchio joined at the hip.

"Well," Shannon said. "This is great. You all already know that teams can be flexible, and move beyond the traditional boundaries of hierarchical paradigms!" Again, Ray expected her to bust out a cheerleading move.

"All right." she said. "Now that we've broken the ice a little, we're going to do an exercise in pairs."

Shannon thought carefully before pairing them off for the exercise. When she was done pointing, Ray was paired with Huey, Francesca was standing next to Welsh looking disappointed, and Dewey stood by Fraser, who was still standing with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Let me explain the exercise." Shannon said. "I want one of each pair to stand in front of the other, with your back to your partner. Then you're going to close your eyes, and when I say 'go', let yourself fall back freely and trust your partner to break your fall. Before we start, I will make sure that everyone is positioned so that this is safe. And then we'll reverse positions and repeat the exercise, then speak about the feelings that it generated in us. I want you to be very open to this experience, it can be powerful if you let it."

Francesca scooted in front of Welsh quickly. She didn't really want him to fall on her. Fraser and Dewey negotiated for a few moments, and Dewey ended up standing in front with his back to Fraser.

Ray shook his head. "I'm not gonna do it. This is stupid." he said.

"Detective, if Shannon says you're doing this-" Welsh said, his tone authoritative, but Shannon interrupted.

"No, it's okay. Everyone has to come to their own decision to trust their partner." she cooed. "Now, Ray, would you like to talk to us about why you're reluctant to engage in this exercise? Tell us how you FEEL about it."

"I trust myself not to fall." he mumbled. His arms were crossed tightly across his chest. Truthfully, he didn't like giving up control, and he still thought this whole morning was a waste of his time.

Fraser was the only one with ears sharp enough to catch the mumble. He couldn't help a small smile in Ray's direction. There really wasn't a lot of inherent risk that one would, while standing still on a flat surface, spontaneously fall directly backwards. He appreciated Ray's perspective on the artificial danger. Every one of the officers in the room, and even Francesca, had experienced their share of the real thing.

Seeing that everyone without hypersensitive hearing was still waiting for a reply, Ray continued, slightly more audibly.

"You can't rely on people, they let you down. It's a mistake. You have to be able to count on yourself, that's all." he said defiantly. Life had been a series of lessons to that effect. You couldn't trust people you loved to keep loving you. You couldn't trust the system to work. You couldn't trust your superiors to back your judgement calls. There was no such thing as honor among thieves. And, if you were Ray Kowalski, the kind of guy who considered he'd messed his life up enough that he'd jump at the chance to slip into someone else's shoes, half the time you weren't even sure you could trust yourself.

"And there isn't one person here you would trust to catch you?" Shannon said. She rubbed her forehead. It always had to be the tough guys who were difficult. With his spiky hair, rumpled clothes, and touch-me-not aura, this Ray Vecchio projected tough. Shannon would have been intrigued as to what hurts he was covering with the obvious attitude, but she didn't have the time to dig so deeply today.

Breaking up the built-in partnerships among the group had seemed like a good idea, but it was risky, and it wasn't working. "You can choose your own partner, if you like." Shannon said. "I'd like to keep up the pace on this exercise, unfortunately we have a lot to get through today."

Ray looked up. He met eyes with Welsh, who had his usual cynical expression, layered with a "come on, stop being such a screw-up" twist of his mouth. Frannie looked bored. She was examining her manicure. Huey had a calculating look on his face, the next wise-ass remark at Ray's expense on the tip of his tongue. Dewey looked smug and vacuous at the same time, a combination that was borne out any time he opened his mouth. Yeah, like he'd make a total idiot of himself trusting any of them to catch him. No, thank you very much, he'd stay standing on his own two feet.

When Ray's eyes met Fraser's he saw something different from the others. Fraser's eyes said _"Please, trust me."_ in a direct, plain way that Ray couldn't ignore. Ray stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked at the floor. When he looked back up, there it was again, that look. Ray knew that if Fraser dropped his habitual guard enough to show that he actually wanted something, wanted Ray's trust, that meant it was really important to him.

Great. How was he supposed to let his friend down? It wasn't fair. That was the sort of expression that lead to Ray doing incredibly foolhardy things in pursuit of Fraser's single-minded vision of justice. Ray tried to hold out, but he couldn't be the one who made the light in Fraser's eyes shine a little less brightly.

"Okay. Fine." Ray said, and slouched over to stand in front of Fraser. "Let's do this thing."

He closed his eyes and, when Shannon said the word, Ray let himself fall backwards.

Back up on that rusty drainpipe:

Well, this wasn't a stupid exercise. Ray had to admit that at the very least he felt like less of a moron dangling from an unavoidable hazard - down had been the best option when the criminal he was chasing across the roof turned out to be armed and not averse to shooting cops - than letting himself fall from a perfectly flat surface. That exercise hurt his pride as a dancer, damn it. Still. The down side was that unlike falling from the perfectly flat surface, this time more than his pride was at stake if his partner didn't catch him. Like they say, it's not the fall that kills you, it's the landing that really hurts.

"Yeah, I'm not so sure about that." Ray yelled in response to Fraser's "Trust me."

"It's kind of a long way down there, and I can't really see." Ray hated admitting how much he needed his glasses, but truthfully, it was freaking him out to consider dropping and aiming for a blur, even a large, primary colored blur.

"I won't let you fall." Fraser's voice sounded reassuring, certain. Ray didn't need to be able to see well to picture the grave set of Fraser's mouth, and deep concern in his eyes that went with that tone.

Ray's hand slipped and he slid a foot down the pole. The shift in his weight caused a bolt holding it in place to tear loose from the brick work and it swung out precipitously. He swallowed again. Do or die.

"OK, ready or not, I'm comin' down." he yelled.

He let go of the pipe and felt gravity take its due, like Icarus after his wax wings got too close to the sun, a head rush like no other. Down, straight down, falling backwards and barely daring to wonder if his partner would break his fall, or if this was his last moment, his final seconds spent in exhilarating flight.

And then he felt the impact of crashing into a solid wall of muscle.

The wind was knocked right out of Ray as he collided with Fraser, waiting to catch him and break his fall. Unlike the stubborn ground, Fraser was yielding, moving with Ray to dissipate the force generated by his descent. They fell backward together. Ray landed on top, his head cushioned against Fraser's shoulder. The motion snapped his neck back in a whiplash-like reaction, but it still beat meeting the head-smashing forces of pure asphalt.

Ray gasped for breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He lay still, the soft rain now a caress against his skin, cherishing the sensation of being alive.

"Ray." Ray barely registered Fraser's voice through his blissed out state of being alive. "Ray. Ray. Ray? Ray. Ray. Ray?" Yup, Fraser was trying to get his attention. Where was Fraser anyway?

After some fruitless speculation, Ray finally realized he was lying on TOP of the Mountie. Sudden concern for the person who must have borne the brunt of his little fandango with gravity possessed Ray. He rolled off his partner. Now Ray was back in close enough distance for Fraser to be in sharp focus, even with his glasses lying broken on the ground several feet away.

"Man, are you okay? I guess I came down kind of hard."

Fraser lay still for a long, troubling moment. He looked pained. Ray tensed up. Finally, Fraser arched his back and reached underneath his body. "Ray, I crushed my hat." he said sorrowfully, pulling out the item in question.

"I'll get you a new one." Ray said, relieved, scrambling to his knees. "I didn't hurt you did I?" He reached out to help Fraser up, and then watched with a look of sympathy as the Mountie matter-of-factly popped a dislocated shoulder back into place, with a little too much practiced ease for Ray's comfort.

"No, Ray. I'm fine." Fraser said with a smile. He sounded as out of breath as Ray, but otherwise steady. "I'm very glad to have you back on solid ground."

"Me too." Ray said. He wanted to say, "You know, if YOU fell, I'd catch you." but the words were stuck in his throat, behind all kinds of reservations. Better not to. Better not to risk rejection. He looked up at the pipe swinging out at a wild angle from the building, a long, unblinking stare.

After a while, Ray looked back at Fraser. Fraser hadn't said another word, he was waiting patiently, watching Ray's face while thoughts and fears about falling and landing, about trusting and asking for trust ran wild through Ray's mind.

Sometimes Fraser's perceptiveness took Ray's breath away faster than, say, a high-speed collision with a wall of Mountie. There was no need for either of them to speak. Ray could read everything right there in Fraser's eyes.

"I know. I trust you with my life, Ray."

And that unspoken message meant much more to Ray than a soft shoulder to land on.

**End.**


End file.
